


In The Summer

by johnnygossamer



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-22
Updated: 2012-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-04 02:52:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/388870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/johnnygossamer/pseuds/johnnygossamer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the summer, Dean glows.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Summer

Sam had never noticed before, but Dean glows.

His skin is golden, freckles dotting the bridge of his nose, prominent only in the rays of the sun. He smiles more, he laughs more, he moves more, he is more in his skin—heavier, but a hollow weight, as if his soul is just richer as the spring goes through metamorphosis.

It’s odd, Sam thinks, to see someone’s behavior change so radically just by the weather. Too used to the cold, tired, eternally-frowning Dean that had emerged as soon as the tree branches were bare, this brother next to him in the Impala was a stranger.

Leather is hot against their bare arms, wind blowing back their hair. The blinding sun makes Sam squint as he looks sidelong at Dean, mouth quirking into a smile as Dean sings along to “American Woman,” serenading the local field crops beyond the open windows.

Summertime makes Sam think of skinny dipping in rivers, of carving their initials into the rough wood paneling Impala, of hunts in humid nights when the stale smell of freshly-spilled blood pervaded the air. Summertime means having the windows rolled down, it means clinking empty beer bottles together on the hood of the Impala, it means playful hits from Dean at smart remarks. Dean’s blood stops coagulating and he moves, he is moving all the time as if his heart will stop if he doesn’t.

In the summer, Dean is a hummingbird. Incessant touches and breaths and shifts and twitches, and Sam documents it all with an eye for detail that only a Stanford graduate could have.

They spend their days tracking down open fields and streams and tourist traps and lakes to swim in, they stock up on burgers and cold beer, and annoy each other in the car with radio dials.

At night they finish up hunts, some easy, some hard. They swindle cash for gas, they get drunk and collapse in air-conditioned motel rooms. In the blanket of the darkness they listen to each other breathe and ask questions in soft whispers, and though they talk about things that brothers shouldn’t, neither seems to mind.

In the summer, Dean glows, brighter than the sun.


End file.
